How It Works
by Katherine Littrel
Summary: Picks up right after How to Stop an Exploding Man. What happened to everybody? Who survived? Who died? How is it that Sylar is the catalyst to the event that decides the fate of all those with abilities?
1. Prologue

**HOW IT WORKS**

PROLOGUE

_Every story has a beginning. Every story has a middle. And of course, every story has an end. But what happens when a story stops and resets? Is it possible that if given the choice, a person could become greater than what they were in their "past life?" If you were given the choice, would you do it differently?_

"No one noticed." he said to himself as he carefully slipped down the ladder of the sewer pipe. "Guess they weren't that worried, if no one noticed…" His chest was killing him.

Talking to himself was the only thing keeping Sylar conscious. He had lost too much blood already and the world was spinning around him. He kept talking to himself hoping it would keep him awake long enough to get him to safety… and help. But, while talking to himself he wasn't watching his footing. His right foot slipped on a wet ladder rung and he lost his grip. Suddenly, talking to himself became screaming for anyone who could hear, as he crashed to the floor of the sewers, bleeding, slowly losing consciousness, and in so much pain. Then there was nothing but black.

"Rise and shine, Mr. Gray." His eyes blinked and then instinctively started darting around the room to figure out where he was. A bedroom. A nice bedroom. It was decorated in a Victorian style with beautiful drapes that traveled to the floor, dark wood furniture that shown in the sunlight, and a large bed with a canopy dressed in off-white silk. Sylar was in this bed.

"I said, rise and shine." The voice was coming from an older woman sitting next to his bed.

"Who are you?" He said with a bit of distain in his voice. As he spoke he tried to get up, but the sudden flash of heat and pain in his chest reminded him of the small Japanese man who had decided to shove a Samurai sword through him.

"Don't move." Said the woman. "You still have a large amount of healing to do." There was no affection in the woman's voice. No caring. He had heard this tone of voice before. Dr. Mohinder Shuresh had the same tone while keeping Sylar duct taped to a chair. Sylar knew he wasn't here to be helped. He was here because he was needed.

"I guess I'll ask again." Said Sylar, this time a bit more forceful, still trying to get up. "Who are you?"

"My name is Angela Petrelli. I'm sure you've met my son, Peter?" Sylar just gave the old woman a decently scary look. He remembered Peter. He had the cheerleader's ability...

_'That was supposed to be my ability…' _he thought. His face distorted into a look of disdain and he flashed it toward the cold-voiced woman. Mrs. Petrelli was taken aback by it, but did not show it.

"Do _not_ try to intimidate me, young man." Her voice was still cold and now slightly bitter. Almost condescending. This summoned a different memory. His mother. She always talked down to him. He hated her for that.

Her words meant nothing, but her tone... Sylar pictured her body hurling itself against the wall, raised his hand and flicked his wrist. That was when Sylar found himself pointing two fingers at the Petrelli's mother and looking incredibly foolish… mainly because she didn't move.

"Your abilities don't work here." She said flatly. "I've taken steps to insure that I could talk to you while keeping my brain fully intact, thank you very much."

Sylar was angry. He was also in pain, but his anger won out. He flung himself towards the woman with all his strength, arms and hands out to throttle her throat. A tall African-looking man stepped out of the shadows where he had remained unnoticed until now. Sylar was not a physically strong man and the Haitian used that to his advantage. He grabbed Sylar by the wrist and threw him back onto the bed with very little effort. It was like a schoolyard bully had just flung the local nerd. Now Sylar was angry _and_ humiliated.

"You have a choice, Mr. Gray." She began speaking to him again as if nothing ever happened. As if he did not just tried to kill her. _Twice_. The ice that dripped of every word just made Sylar angrier. Calling him '_Mr. Gray_' was not helping either.

"My companion here," she continued, " has the ability to erase your memory. It is your choice. Not to sound too cliché, but we can do this the easy way or the difficult way." She said this calmly, as if there was no choice.

There _was_ no choice.

Sylar fought as much as he could against the grip of the Haitian man, but it was no use. He barely saw the needle before all there was… was darkness…


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

**_Kirby Plaza, New York City  
Three Months Ago_  
**

It had been three months since anybody had heard from the Petrelli boys. There was a nation wide search for the missing congressman, Nathan Petrelli, and his brother, Peter. They were last seen at Kirby Plaza. That was a strange evening for New York's Finest. The people who were there had each given different statements with different details of different times of the evening, yet none of them could definitively say what had happened to the Petrelli brothers… or anything for that matter.

Niki Sanders, with her son, Micah Sanders, and husband, D.L. Hawkins, told the police at the hospital that Mr. Linderman, the famous casino entrepreneur from Las Vegas, had kidnapped young Micah from his home and the two parents set off to New York to retrieve him. When they confronted Mr. Linderman, he allegedly shot D.L. when he tried to rescue his son. None of the family members could explain the six inch wide, seven and a half inches deep _hole_ in the back of Mr. Linderman's head.

They lied.

Matt Parkman, former officer with the Los Angeles Police Department, had to go through fourteen hours of surgery and two days of recovery before he could report anything to the NYPD. When he finally was aware enough to give a statement, he could not shed any light on his own shooting. Ballistics and gun residue show that the origin of the gunfire was from the precise location where Parkman was found, but the trajectory of the bullets suggest that they were fired from at least twenty feet _in front_ of Parkman's location. This in itself is not strange. What was strange was how Parkman could not explain how he was shot three times with his own gun… _that he was holding at the time._

He lied.

Noah Bennet, of Texas, and his daughter, Claire, claim they saw nothing. Even though a bright blast of light was witnessed over Kirby Plaza by thousands of New Yorkers… the Texans say that they "Weren't paying attention." They were just "out for a stroll."

They lied.

Mohinder Suresh, doctor of genetics from India, gave his report. He spoke of how he was just passing by, visiting one of his former patients, Molly Walker, when he saw Parkman injured and proceeded to tend to his wounds. He "never saw" the Petrelli brothers.

He lied.

Nobody could account for the slightly unusual levels of radiation in the plaza. Nor the grip marks on a parking meter that looked as if it has been physically ripped from solid cement with bare hands.

And finally, probably the strangest piece of evidence of all was the strange trail of blood leading to the sewer. This suggested that there was eleven witnesses; Niki Sanders, Micah Sanders, D.L. Hawkins, Matt Parkman, Noah Bennet, Claire Bennet, Mohinder Suresh, Molly Walker, supposedly Nathan and Peter Petrelli and, finally, some mystery witness. From what the crime labs could get from the blood, the witness was male and from the amount of blood at the scene, practically running on empty. Police searched the sewers for hours looking for a body, but found nothing. Nobody knew a thing about the eleventh man.

They all lied.

Lying was Mohinder's suggestion. Everyone who witnessed the events at Kirby Plaza were to keep they're mouths shut until they could decide what to do… what to say… and how truthful should they be. They all decided to keep the reality of what they were to themselves.

Niki Sanders didn't tell police that she was the one who ripped the parking meter out of the ground with her super strength. D.L. Hawkins refused to comment on how it had been he who left the hole in the back of Linderman's head by phasing his fist through Linderman's skull. Noah Bennet didn't say that he was in New York City to kill little Molly Walker, who had the ability to track people with a mere thought. Claire never told police that she was the biological, regenerating daughter of the missing congressman with the ability to fly; Micah never mentioned that he rigged the Petrelli election; and Matt Parkman didn't identify his assailant as Sylar, the telekinetic serial killer who was the mystery man to crawl down the manhole. No one even mentioned that Hiro Nakamura, the time bender from Japan, was even there to help Sylar lose all that blood.

They all lied.

There was nothing the police could do. They couldn't prove the witnesses of Kirby Plaza were lying. How do you prove a man shot himself from twenty feet away? How do you say that a woman can rip a parking meter out of solid cement with her bare hands? How can you explain how a man is strong enough to punch what could be considered a small crater into the back of a grown man's skull? You can't.

As the months passed, the police stopped asking questions, mainly because they were getting the same answers over and over. Only they people who were at Kirby Plaza could say what really happened. And they weren't talking.

* * *

**_Mohinder Suresh  
New York, NY_**

The phone was ringing loudly in his ear. Mohinder Suresh reached over to pick it up only to see the caller ID read: NY Police Department 603. He didn't answer it. Mohinder was tired of talking to the New York City police. They asked the same questions every time they called and it got annoying.

At first, he would pick up hoping that there would be news on Peter Petrelli and his brother. He watched the news every day to hear if the brothers had been found. After a few weeks, the geneticist began to lose hope. It has now been three months. What was once talked about for twenty-five minutes on the evening news was now just a thirty-second sidebar after the weather. What was once a front-page headline had become a two-by-two inch column on page fourteen. He just wanted the bodies to be found so that people could mourn and move on with their lives.

Mohinder crawled out of bed with the same enthusiasm, or lack thereof, that he did every morning. He would get up at five am, take a shower, get in his cab, and drive to Central Station to wait. He would wait for the monotony of driving tourists and New York City businessmen to their locations until he drove home at six pm. He would eat, read the paper, watch the evening news and go to bed. Rinse and repeat.

Today was no different. He parked his cab at Central Station and waited for his first passenger. A stocky man got into the back of his cab and gruffly said, "Twelve Elmsford Street, Brooklyn."

'Here we go.' Mohinder thought to himself. The man in his taxi was a little over forty, balding, and very overweight. He was dressed in a blue business suit that you could tell had been worn many times. He carried a very worn briefcase that was held together in parts by duct tape.

Mohinder began his drive through Manhattan and over the bridge toward the Brooklyn borough. As the meter clicked away Mohinder slowly let his mind drift elsewhere. He thought of Niki and Micah Sanders in Las Vegas. He wondered how they were doing since he heard D.L. had been released from the hospital over two months ago. He thought of Matt Parkman in Los Angeles who told Mohinder how he and his wife were expecting a baby. 'Wonder how far along she is?' he thought.

Then he let his mind wonder briefly to Sylar. There had been nothing about the brain-stealing killer in the news since the events before Kirby Plaza involving the death of Ted Sprague. Mohinder made sure he paid close attention for that. He didn't want Sylar to catch him by surprise. He harbored the thought that the murderer died that night in some dark corner of the New York City sewer system. Mohinder smiled. 'One can only hope…' he mused.

Before long he arrived at 12 Elmsford Street in Brooklyn. The man shoved a wad of crumpled bills into Mohinder's hand and took off out the passenger side door.

'Pfft. No tip…' thought Mohinder. 'Jerk.' Just as the thought had crossed his mind to roll down his window and yell at the ass that stiffed him, he saw…

"No..." he said aloud. "It can't be…"

He felt his heart jump up to his throat. Just across the street, getting out of another cab, was, "Sylar…" he gasped.

Mohinder felt nauseous.

A tall, dark-haired, be-speckled man leaned into the window of the opposing cab to pay his fair. Mohinder watched intently as the lean figure turned to walk about halfway down the block. He stopped in front of a shop labeled _Gray & Sons, Timepiece Restoration. _Mohinder held his breath as he watched the man take out a set of keys, unlock the door to the shop, and step inside.


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

**_Noah and Claire Bennet  
Odessa, Texas_**

Claire Bennet just sat in her chair, twisting her fork in the mashed potatoes on her plate.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" her mother asked from across the dinner table.

"I'm fine." She replied. It wasn't very convincing.

Claire's father, Noah Bennet, who was sitting beside her, gave her knowing look. His daughter had been acting like this for three months now. Even after they moved into their newly built house in Odessa, Claire had been in a… funk, so to speak.

He knew why.

No one had heard from Peter Petrelli in three months. Not since the explosion in New York City. Noah knew that Claire felt a special connection to Peter. Not only was Peter Petrelli Claire's biological uncle, but he was also the first one of "her kind" that she had ever met. Not to mention, Peter saved her life from Sylar, something Noah failed to do. Even he was a little saddened by Peter's disappearance.

Claire's chair scraping against the dining room floor broke Noah's train of thought. He watched as she got up, scraped her hardly eaten meal into the trashcan and head for the door.

"Where are you going?" Her mother asked.

"For a walk… I can't sit in this stupid house anymore." And with that, Claire was out the door.

Any normal mother would have stopped their eighteen-year-old daughter from walking out alone at night, but Sandra Bennet was not your normal mother and Claire was certainly not your normal daughter. For once in her life, Sandra knew the truth. Her husband had finally decided that her not knowing would be more harmful than helpful. She knew her daughter was _special_. She knew that Noah had worked for a secret government agency that dealt with these _special_ people. She also knew that he left that same agency to protect Claire. Life for the Bennets had gotten complicated and very financially restricted since then.

Now lacking a job, Noah had to go find new work. Luckily he had some friends who worked in the shipping industry who helped him get a managerial job at one of the local warehouses. Sandra had to leave the trade of breeding show dogs to get a steadier job at _Odessa Savings and Loans_. Lyle, being too young for what the Bennets felt was a "real" job, helped out by cutting grass and babysitting. Even Claire started working. She became a waitress at the _Burnt Toast Café_ in Midland.

"If she can leave so can I, right?" said Lyle. He hated meatloaf anyway.

"No." replied his father who immediately stood up from the table, abandoning his meal, and took off after Claire.

"Well, _that's_ unfair." quipped Lyle as his father shut the door.

* * *

Claire was walking at a brisk pace. She had to get away from that house. She was angry. She really wasn't sure why she was angry… all she knew was that she wanted to get as far away as possible. She rounded the corner of the block and tore off down the next street. If anyone could see her they would probably think that she had just come from a heated argument from overprotective parents or maybe a cheating boyfriend. She radiated with infuriation. It poured off her like a sour smell that could never be washed off. As she turned onto the next street, the local elementary school playground came into view. She decided that that would be her final destination

Violently kicking in the gate to the playground, Claire broke the top hinge and bent in the handle-latch. The small act of destruction earned a fleeting smirk on her face. It felt good to break something. She headed towards the swing set. Grabbing the chains on both sides, she pulled downward as hard as she could. She could feel the cold metal scraping into her skin, but she didn't care. There was a satisfying _'snap' _of the links as they gave way to the stress of her draw. That didn't make her feel any better than breaking the gate did, so she picked up the disconnected swing and threw it towards the woods behind the park. She still didn't feel better. Screaming, she stomped toward the wooded area and began to punch the tree that stood nearest to her. Nothing. She punched harder. Still, nothing.

Harder… "Why!?" she screamed.

Harder… she was crying now.

Harder… "Why hasn't he come back?" she whimpered as she frantically continued to pummel the Birch.

"Claire?" she recognized the voice to be her fathers. It didn't stop her from continuing to abuse the tree. Her knuckles were raw and dripping blood. Noah grabbed his daughter's arms.

"Claire, stop." He said, trying to calm her down. She struggled against him, still attempting attacks on the tree.

"Stop, stop, stop…" With every begging word he pulled her with a bit more force until finally she gave in. She turned towards him and the both watched as the raw open flesh of her hands slowly renewed themselves until it appeared they were never damaged to begin with. She buried her face in her father's chest and began uncontrollably sobbing.

"Why?" she said again. This was the first time she had shown any real emotion in three months and it was all coming out at once. "Ted didn't die when he destroyed our house!" She exclaimed. "Plus, he had my ability, didn't he? He should have survived!"

Noah watched as the tears slid down his little girls face. He wanted to make it all go away. He wanted to snap his fingers and make the last year vanish. He couldn't stand seeing her like this.

"Claire-bear…" he began, "You don't know… He could be in a hospital somewhere… recuperating." He was lying. All hopes of Peter being alive had died by now. He just wanted to comfort his daughter and if lying to her meant she would be happy… so be it.

Claire looked up at her father. He was lying to her. She knew it. He had lied to her so often in the past that it was difficult to get one by her anymore. She knew his tells. But hearing those words… _'He could be' _was what she wanted to hear. No. _Needed_ to hear. She sniffled and wiped her face on her sleeve.

"Maybe…" she said, with a little less sad and a little more hope in her voice. "I guess we'll have to wait and pray." Her father nodded in agreement.

He was glad to see her coming out from under the dark cloud that was hanging over her head. He started to say, "Let's go home." But the words never escaped his lips. He was distracted by the vibration in his pocket.

Noah smiled and took the pulsating cell phone from his pocket. The caller ID said: _WORK_. Perplexed, he opened the tiny Motorola with a, "Hello?" and Claire watched as the expression on her father's face suddenly change.

"Ossu….Dakaratte, hitokasegiwatashirosuto…Bujisokusai?… Wakarikiru… Ossushitsurei." And with that, Noah closed his phone.

"What was _that_ all about... and were you speaking Japanese? " Claire asked with a cocked eyebrow.

Noah smiled. "Yes I was. There's a lot of thing you don't know yet, Claire-bear." He took his daughter's hand and leaned down to look her in the eye. "And _that_… was the answer to our prayers."


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3  
**

_**Matt and Janice Parkman  
Los Angeles, California**_

"Have you thought of names?" Janice Parkman asked as she wrapped a drinking glass in newspaper. The question from his wife was lost on Matt Parkman who was sitting at the couple's kitchen table wrapping water glasses. His mind was elsewhere as he robotically wrapped each glass. She could see the distance on her husband's face.

"Matt?" Janice raised her voice a little louder and accomplished her task. Matt looked at her with a little confusion. "You weren't listening were you?" she said with some agitation in her voice. _'Do you even care what our baby's name is?'_

"What about 'Matthew?'" he said, quickly recovering from his daze. He had heard her last thought.

It was a handy ability, being able to know what people were thinking no matter what they were saying or doing. No one could lie to him. It also helped him avoid an angry wife. Janice was four months pregnant with his child. The hormones were already driving the woman mad. Matt remembered how three days ago she threw the toaster at him. He chuckled inwardly to himself as he recalled the reason for the toaster's demise was because _he_ apparently didn't know how to fold pants properly.

"What's so funny?" she spat, a scowl on her face.

"Nothing," he smiled. "I was just thinking about how wonderful it's going to be with a little rug rat running around the house."

Her scowl slowly morphed into a grin. "You lie…"

"And isn't it great that you don't know if I'm really lying of not?" He got up to approach his wife, but in doing so, aggravated the wounds in his chest. He winced in pain and dropped the glass he was holding. The water glass shattered with a loud smash and Janice quickly ran over to him.

"You don't need to get up…" she began.

"I'm fine," he defended, but she still tried to help him. "Really. I'm fine."

"It still hurts?" she asked.

"It's going to hurt for a while, Janice. I _was _shot." There was a bit of sarcasm in his voice, which dulled the sharpness of his words. His wife gave him a knowing look. She knew he wasn't angry with her. She also knew it wasn't the pain that angered him. It was how easy it was for his attacker to inflict his now healing wounds.

He had told her the story of Kirby Plaza and of Peter Petrelli, the man who could absorb powers like a sponge, was almost the cause of a nuclear disaster. Her husband also told her about Noah Bennet and how Bennet, Ted Sprague and himself had escaped a facility in Texas to find some sort of tracking device. He also told her that the tracking device was little Molly Walker, the little girl whose parents were killed by the insidious serial killer, Sylar. And he told her about Sylar.

Matt told her how Sylar would hunt down those with abilities and absorb them by way of taking their brains right out of their heads. He also told her of Sylar's mysterious disappearance. How he slinked away from Kirby Plaza unnoticed. That is what Janice feared the most.

'_Sylar may still be alive.'_

Matt heard his wife's thoughts remained on Sylar for long enough for Matt to feel concern.

"You think he'll come for us, don't you?" he asked.

"Don't you?" she replied. "You said yourself that when you shot him he just threw the bullets back at you."

"As if we were playing catch." He quipped.

"Not funny…" She knew that sarcasm was his defense mechanism. When things got uncomfortable, Matt would immediately try to make the situation more bearable with humor.

He walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "He's dead." He began. "He's gotta be. If you had seen how much blood he lost at the scene, you'd think so too. By the time he got out of there he was running on empty."

Janice chucked and her face softened a little. "You're right. He couldn't have lasted long after losing so much blood."

"Plus, it's been three months and nobodies seen hide nor hair of him. I would think that if he survived, he'd continue his power hunt." His voice was full of confidence. For him, all fears of Sylar returning had faded away long ago.

"You're right." She said again.

"I'm right." He said comfortingly. "Now, let's finish packing up the kitchen and we'll go out for a nice dinner? Okay?"

"Okay…" the smile on her face was genuine and Matt was relieved.

Seeing his wife had relaxed, Matt moved back to his original position by the kitchen table. He slowly bent down to pick up the broken shards of glass.

"I can get that…" Janice began, but before Matt could protest, there was a knock on the door.

"How 'bout you see who that is instead?" he said from the floor.

"Just don't cut yourself." She said as she made her way towards the door and around the boxes that were slowly piling up everywhere.

Matt continued to pick up little pieces of glass and threw them into the trash bin by the sink. He listened to the muffled voices at the front door. Whoever was at the door, Matt could hear that the person was female. The foreign voice held a momentary conversation with his wife before he heard footsteps towards the kitchen. That's when he heard her first thought, _'Parkman's never going to believe this…' _The door swung open to reveal Agent Audrey Hanson of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

"New York City, huh?" spoke Agent Hanson. "I understand that's a rough place to live."

"Yeah, sure…" he knew she was breaking the ice. "What am I not going to believe?" He was quick and to the point. Matt wanted to know what brought the agent to his home. Agent Hanson fidgeted a bit as she tried to figure out how to tell him.

Audrey began slowly. "Do you know a man named Mohinder Suresh?"

She tried hard enough, but it was no good. Matt Parkman could read minds… and her's was coming in loud and clear.

"Sylar's _what!?_" he exclaimed.


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

_Mohinder Suresh  
New York, NY_

Mohinder Suresh paced back and forth in his messy apartment. Only hours before he has seen the most dangerous man on the planet get out of a taxicab.

When he first saw Sylar, he didn't know what to do. He watched as the tall man unlocked the door to the shop across the street and step inside. He contemplated running in there… but he didn't know what he would do when he got in there. _'What are you going to do, Mohinder… kill him?'_ he marveled at his idiocy. So, he took out his cell phone and began dialing.

He called the police who connected him to the F.B.I. faster than he could even say _'Sylar.'_ He talked to a woman named Audrey Hanson. She was kind enough, but he could tell that she harbored a hatred for Sylar.

That was good.

Agent Hanson told Mohinder to go home and wait. _'Wait?!'_ he thought to himself.

"I should be watching his every move!" he yelled at the agent on the line.

She explained that Sylar was incredibly dangerous and that Mohinder would be defenseless against him. _'She's right.'_ He thought. _'What could a simple geneticist do against a monster who could throw a bus with a mere thought?'_ When he hung up the phone he began heading home like a good boy but just before he began crossing the bridge to Manhattan, he slammed on his breaks and swerved to the right. Before he really knew what he was doing, he turned his taxi around and began driving in the direction of the killer.

He parked at the corner of the street so not to be seen. Before getting out, he reached into the glove compartment to retrieve the gun. He used the same gun against Sylar before. Stashing the weapon in his jacket pocket, he walked quickly towards the watch shop. But as he got closer, his pace started to slow. His heart started to beat faster and his palms began to sweat.

"What am I doing?" he said aloud, alarming the old woman who was passing by him. He started to turn, but the curiosity in him was too much. He had to know. He had to see if it really was Sylar. With his hand in his pocket, stroking the gun's handle for confidence, he opened the door to _Gray and Son's Timepiece Restoration. _

There were clocks hanging everywhere. Not a single spot on the wall uncovered. Cases lined both walls containing wristwatches of all types and styles. There was a beautiful grandfather clock against the far wall from where Mohinder was standing. _'No turning back now.'_ He thought, but before Mohinder could completely wrap his mind around what he was doing a voice called out from the back of the room.

"Can I help you?" Mohinder looked slowly to see who had spoken to him. A bright-eyed man looked over a pair of very odd looking glasses. He was wearing a dark green cardigan over a brown button-down shirt and some plain beige khakis. Mohinder looked at the man as if he has seen a ghost. The man stood up and spoke again.

"Can I help you with something?" He looked at Mohinder innocently. Noticing the Indian's frightened expression he spoke a third time. "Are you alright? You look like you've seen death…"

Mohinder couldn't speak. He just stared blankly into the face of his father's killer. Then, without explanation, he scrambled out the door, ran to his cab, and hastily sped off home.

And that is where he has been for the past seventeen hours. Pacing, worrying and pacing some more.

He tried to make tea, but he was shaking so hard he kept spilling it all over himself. He had to change his shirt twice.

He didn't sleep a wink that night.

The next morning he decided to call Las Vegas and talk to Niki Sanders. He wanted to check up on Molly.

Molly Walker had survived Sylar's attack on her house. Sylar had killed her parents and she was taken to a facility where her ability to track anyone in the world was used to keep tabs on specials. When "The Company", which is what Noah Bennet had called them, found that their tracking system was sick, they called in Mohinder to help cure her. He had spent some time with the little girl and become very attached to her. When the events at Kirby Plaza happened, Molly was freed from her ties to The Company. She had taken a liking to Micah, Niki and D.L.'s little boy, so Noah Bennet suggested that they take her in for a while.

He had called to make sure that Niki and D.L. knew that Sylar was alive and to keep and eye out.

"Are you sure it was him, Mohinder?" Niki had asked with some doubt in her voice.

"I'm sure." Was all Mohinder could say.

That conversation took place nearly three hours ago. Now Mohinder was pacing again. Worrying again. Spilling tea again. He was just about to pick up the phone to see what Agent Hanson was up to when he heard a knock on the door. He looked through the peephole to see a very familiar face on the other side.

"Matt!" he exclaimed as he opened the door. "I am so glad you're here. Sylar's…"

"Alive." Parkman said flatly as he entered the apartment. "I know."

A blond haired woman followed Matt. This must be the Agent he spoke with on the phone. He then looked out the door to see who else was with them, but there was no one. They had come by themselves. This worried Mohinder a bit. He didn't think it wise to go into a battle with Sylar with a cop who could read minds, a genetics professor and a girl with a gun. He shot them both a worried look and began to speak when Agent Hanson cut him off.

"I guess I should start off by explaining why we didn't bring a S.W.A.T. team." She said.

"I suppose you should." Said Mohinder.

"We don't know what we're getting into." She began. "From what you told me, it looked as if Sylar has taken on a new identity. Perhaps he's decided to lie low for a while."

"Or maybe he just doesn't remember." The geneticist chimed in. The words earned him a strange look from the two people now occupying his living room. So he began to explain. "I know you told me not to, but I went in to see if it was really him." Audrey tried to cut in but Mohinder kept talking. "He acted like he had never seen me before. I know it could just be an act, but he was somewhat innocent about it and acted somewhat concerned." He said. "He has been like this before, when he pretended to be Zane Taylor, but what I don't understand is why would he get a job? Does the owner of the shop have an ability? Why would he go out of his way to work for a guy when he could just kill him?"

The cop and the F.B.I. Agent stared at him for a moment. He knew they thought he was nuts. Then Audrey spoke.  
"I did some digging. I pulled the name of the owner of the shop you claimed Sylar went into. It's licensed to a man named Gabriel Gray."

"Sylar." Matt said. "Sylar _is_ Gabriel Gray."

Mohinder looked bewildered. He wondered if his father knew Sylar's real name. He started to go over everything he remembered from his father's research on Sylar. And then,

"His apartment!" he blurted out.

"What?" said Agent Hanson, surprised by Suresh's outburst.

"If he's returned to being what he was before Sylar, then I may know where he lives." Mohinder stated. "I discovered the address when I was going through my father's things." And as if a bolt of lighting had struck him, he said, "I know where his apartment is. I've been there."

Without any hesitation, Agent Hanson agreed that the apartment was where they should begin. She believed that he would be caught off guard if they just showed up at his doorstep.

* * *

_Audrey Hanson, Matt Parkman and Mohinder Suresh  
Queens, NY_

It took them little time to arrive at their destination. As they walked slowly up the steps to apartment 1B, Matt Parkman could hear the unrest in his companions. Mohinder was afraid that if they really did catch Sylar off guard, he'd react quickly and kill them. Audrey wasn't sure what she was going to do when she looked the killer in the face after he had eluded her for so long.

They had reached the door and just… stared at it.

"Should we knock?" asked Mohinder with a little shake in his voice.

"And what do we do when he answers?" asked Parkman, "Say, 'Hi, we were just wondering if you were still splitting people's heads open in your quest to satisfy your undying hunger for power?' Something tells me that's not going to work."

"I say we knock. If he answers, we have the wrong apartment, if he doesn't…" Audrey paused. "We answer it for him."

With that said, Mohinder lightly knocked on the door. "Mr. Gray?" he called. No answer. They waited a moment, and Mohinder knocked again. "Mr. Gray?" He said a little louder. Still, no answer. _'Thank God, he's not there…'_ Matt heard Mohinder think.

Audrey took out two little tools from her pocket. Lock-picks. She began to play around with the small keyhole until they all heard a tiny click.

"We're in." She said flatly.

Agent Hanson slowly opened the door and they all carefully stepped in. They were on high alert, as if they were in the temple of doom and any misstep would call a giant rolling boulder to run them down.

Matt broke the silence, "It's very… Neat…" he said. This was very true.

They entered through a very tidy kitchen with every dish, pot, and spoon in its place. As they continued, the walls were covered with books. Upon closer examination, Mohinder noticed all the books in alphabetical order by author's last name. There were books ranging from Shakespeare to Chaucer, Stephen King to Madeleine L'Engle. The furnature, which was humble but stylish, was safely encased in plastic. From the living room you could see a small bedroom with a twin bed in the center. The bed was made and all of the occupants of the nightstand were neatly organized.

"Okay, so he's a murdering neat-freak…" Parkman quipped.

Mohinder instinctively walked towards one of the bookcases, where he knew there to be a false wall. He pushed… and it opened.

"How the hell did you know that was there?" Asked Agent Hanson.

"He's been here before, remember?" Parkman said before Mohinder could respond.

The trio slowly made there way into the hidden room. Mohinder gasped.

"It's all gone!" He said in surprise. Audrey began to ask 'what?' but Mohinder continued, "There was a map. A map of all of the specials he had found. And there were medical books. It was all disarrayed and confused." Mohinder continued through the back room. What was once a killer's hideaway was now a storage room for old books and watch parts. Suresh turned to his companions. "And back here, the walls were covered… but it's all gone…"

"Covered in what?" Parkman asked.

"Thoughts of redemption…"

There was a creak from the living room. Matt and Audrey took out their guns.

Someone was home.


	6. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

_Claire and Noah Bennet  
Odessa, TX_

They hadn't been driving for long. Claire watched as the trees and houses passed by. She was so excited. Her and her father were heading towards _Primatech Paper, _her dad's old employer. It wasn't really a paper company, Claire knew that. It was a cover for a secret organization known only as "The Company." The tracked and studied _specials, _like Claire.

Her father told her how it was The Company that put Claire with the Bennets. She was actually thankful for that. She loved her family. She loved her life, that was, until all the weird things started happening. Her ability, Sylar, Peter… New York City… she hated thinking of that night. So she didn't. Her thoughts were interrupted but the sound, or lack there of, of the car. They had stopped.

"We're here." Her father said. Noah was just as excited, but for other reasons. When he received the phone call, it renewed his hope that the world could be safer for Claire. He always harbored the thought the Sylar would come back for her, and now, his hope for protecting her was just behind the paper factories false doors.

The front doors opened and a slender girl wearing a short skirt and white school-girl blouse stepped out into the parking lot. She looked like what Claire would classify as a "skank." The girl walked towards the car as the two Bennets got out.

"Welcome back, Mr. Bennet." She said with a cocky grin on her face.

"Let's hope so. Claire," he said turning to his daughter, "This is Candice Wilmer. We used to work together. She's like you."

Claire gave the girl the once over. "I highly doubt that."

"I'm special. Just like you." Candice said in a saccharine tone. "Rumor has it you're unbreakable."

"No, I'm breakable…" Claire said, returning the falsely sweet tone. "It's just hard to keep me broken."

Feeling the uncomfortable silence encroaching, Noah suggested they go inside.

As they walked in the building, Claire reminisced how she used to visit her father at work. She had no idea what was lying in the underbelly of this factory. She just thought he managed a Paper Company. All that had changed now.

They walked in silence until the reached the end of the corridor. Candice opened a small side panel next to a knob-less door to reveal a numbered keypad. She entered in a quick code and the door opened. Claire wasn't expecting what she saw on the other side.

A slender Asian man was standing in the middle of the hall having a conversation with a tall brunette who, from the back, looked relatively young compared to his conversational partner. The Asian man looked a little older than her father, but not by much.

"That is Kaito Nakamura." Noah leaned to whisper in Claire's ear. "He was the one who gave you to us."

Claire watched as Mr. Nakamura noticed when the three entered the hall. He pointed and said something to the man standing in front of him. When the brunette turned to face the newcomers, Claire couldn't hold back the gasp that came from her throat. She couldn't believe her eyes. The man that Claire had thought to be dead was standing ten feet in front of her.

"Oh my god…" Claire screamed as she ran down the hall to greet him with a huge hug.

"Claire!" The man said, with a gigantic smile on his face.

"Where have you been? What happened to you? You cut your hair!" she asked the barrage of questions with her face buried in his chest.

"I guess I have some explaining to do." The brunette laughed, looking down at Claire. She didn't care. He was alive.

Peter Petrelli was alive.


	7. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

_Audrey Hanson, Matt Parkman, and Mohinder Suresh  
Queens, NY_

Parkman moved first. He slowly pushed the false wall out of his way and with his gun pointed outward, stepped into the living room. The next few seconds were a bit of a blur. Parkman heard the man scream as he jumped out from his hiding place against the wall. Matt didn't know what hit him… well, he knew, he just didn't expect it.

The man started whapping away at Parkman's back with a spatula. Highly annoyed, Matt grabbed the man by the rim of his sweater and threw him to the ground.

"Please…" the man spouted out, "Take what you want… just don't hurt me…"

Parkman looked at the crumpled man on the floor. He grabbed the spatula out of his hands and looked at it, the guy on the floor, and back at the spatula.

"This coming from a guy who just assaulted me with kitchen wear?" he said, waving the kitchen utensil in the air.

"Who are you people?" the man whimpered. "What do you want? Please, take anything… Just go!"

Mohinder and Audrey watched as the man pushed himself up against the back of the plastic covered chair. He was afraid; very, very afraid.

Audrey stepped forward. "Do your thing, Parkman. I want to be sure." She said this so coldly Mohinder could almost feel the air in the room freeze. Audrey hated Sylar. This was the first time she had seen him since she practically handed Ted Sprague to him on a silver platter. "Make sure you go deep."

Matt pinned the whimpering man to the chair and leaned in to listen…

Who are these people? Oh my God, they are going to kill me... I don't want to die… Please… Why do they have guns? I've never been shot… I don't want to be shot… Someone please help me… maybe if I scream someone will hear me… Please don't kill me…Please…I think I'm going to be ill… Oh God… help…

Matt was sick of listening. He let go of the man whose rambling thoughts were now annoying the hell out of him. "He's clean."

"What?" gasped Audrey. She couldn't believe that this man was not Sylar. "How?"

"I can only think of one guy who can do something like this…" Matt said turning away from the cowering man on the floor, "The Haitian man that used to travel with Bennet." As he said this, Matt's face turned dark. The Haitian had erased his memories before. Maybe, just maybe, he did it to Sylar. "He has the ability to block… well… abilities. And erase memories."

"How do you know this?" Mohinder asked, intrigued more by the fact that there was a man who could block someone's abilities.

"Let's just say… we've met…" Matt said darkly.

The three looked down at the trembling man who looked whiter than a sheet. He looked at them in horror as if they had just told him they were going to torture him. Mohinder reached down with his hand open. The man shuddered and stared, but then took Mohinder's hand and stood.

"We aren't here to harm you…" Mohinder stated in as much a calming voice as he could muster. "What's your name?"

The man just stared blankly at them. The minute of silence that passed felt like an hour, but finally, the frightened man spoke…

"Gabriel." He choked out. "My name is Gabriel."

Mohinder looked in awe at the man. If this person were Sylar, you would never know it. He was wearing a light blue sweater over a white collared shirt that was fitted cleanly to his lean frame. His pants were a brownish color and had a neat crease on the front of each pant leg. His hair was neatly combed and he wore a pair of black-framed glasses. He was the personification of the word: Nerd. He was no Sylar. This man was frightened and weak. A mere shadow of the man they thought they were hunting.

"Gabriel." Audrey scoffed, her gun still aiming. "And you do what? Fix clocks?"

"Yes." Gabriel responded matter-of-factly. "I own a watch shop in Brooklyn."

"Yeah, yeah. We know." Started Parkman. "What we want to know is how is it you've come to live here and own that dorky little shop of yours?"

"_What does he mean?" _Matt heard the thought swiftly pass through Gabriel's mind. The thought accompanied a look of inquisitiveness.

"I've always worked in that shop. It was my dad's." Gabriel stated. "Now, please… if you're not here for anything else but my biography, please leave."

Mohinder heard it. It was in Gabriel's voice. Sarcasm. This man didn't have a big enough backbone for sarcasm. Especially when he was staring down the barrels of two guns.

"Maybe that is what we want." Mohinder said. "Or maybe… we want to kill you." The words left his mouth in the same tone he had used when he had Sylar tied to a chair. It was a venomous tone. A "and it's going to hurt…" tone. "Audrey?"

"Yes?" Agent Hanson steadied her gun to face Gabriel's forehead.

"_What is she doing?" _Matt heard another thought pass. Actually, he wanted to know what they were up to as well. Why were they threatening this loser? He wasn't Sylar. He had no memory of Sylar. Matt didn't understand.

Mohinder looked at Audrey. She waited. She didn't need to be Parkman to know what Mohinder was thinking.

"Shoot him." He said coldly.

"What? No! I thought we were going to scare him…" Apparently she did need Matt's ability. She wasn't ready to shoot a guy a mind reader has cleared as innocent.

"If you won't…" Mohinder reached and grabbed Audrey's gun from her hands. "Than I will…"

He aimed and pulled the trigger without any hesitation. There was a loud: BANG!

The three of them just stared… as the bullet stopped mere inches from its intended destination.

"Now, now, Mohinder…" Gabriel's voice turned from frightful to frightening. His eyes turned cold as he watched the bullet drop down to the floor with a small clink. "I didn't think you had it in you."


	8. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

_Peter Petrelli_  
_3 Months Ago_

His breathing was ragged. He could feel himself dancing between conscious and unconscious. He wasn't sure where he was. He wasn't sure of anything. He didn't even know who he was.

It was cold. Not cold. Chilly. He was lying down. The surface was soft. When he finally let consciousness take over his eyes fluttered open to see he was in some sort of medical facility. He began surveying his surroundings. He was lying in a white-sheeted bed with an IV in his arm. The walls were made of cement. There was a large plate glass window directly in front of him. The thought of 'medical facility' was replaced by 'holding cell.' It was then he heard the creaking of the large metal door at the left of the room.

A slender Asian man stepped into the room. He looked mildly familiar but he couldn't place the face.

"Mr. Petrelli." The man said with a smile. _Petrelli, _he thought. _I'm Peter Petrelli._ The memories came flooding back into his mind. Mohinder, Claire…. Kirby Plaza…. Sylar….

"Nathan!" he exclaimed, remembering his brothers sacrifice. "Where's Nathan!?

"Calm yourself, Mr. Petrelli. All in do time." The man's voice was calming. Peter didn't want to be calm. He wanted to know where his brother was. But before he could express once again his concern for his sibling, the Asian man spoke again.

"Your brother is still missing, Mr. Petrelli. We have no intel on his location at this time." This time, the man's words were flat and lacking emotion, as if he were going through a formality.

"Who are you? And where am I?" Peter asked. He figure that he would get no more information on Nathan so he would try to figure out what was going on with his life.

"My name is Kaito Nakamura." The man stated. "And you are in a holding facility for The Company."

"The Company? What the hell is… wait," Peter paused, "Nakamura?" the man's name had caught Peter attention. The man chuckled softly.

"Yes. Nakamura." Kaito smiled. "I do believe you have met my son, Hiro."

Peter went back through his memories. Hiro Nakamura was the Japanese man that had given him his fateful message. _Save the Cheerleader, Save the World._ That was the future version of Hiro. The current version was a comic loving fanboy. That was fine with Peter because that same comic loving fanboy has run Sylar through the gut with a Samurai sword.

"Hiro." Peter said thoughtfully. "He killed Sylar. Where is he? Can I thank him?" Peter said with a little humor in his voice.

"Sadly, you cannot." Kaito sounded solemn, "My son has been missing since that night at Kirby Plaza when he confronted his destiny. I fear the worst."

Peter gave Kaito Nakamura a sympathetic look, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Than you will be even more sorry to hear that Sylar's body has yet to be found." Kaito said very matter-of-factly, moving away from the subject of his son. "We here at The Company believe he may still be alive."

This wasn't good. Sylar being alive meant that New York, or any city for that matter, could still go nuclear.

"We have to do something! _I _have to do something…" Peter began to sit up but found that he had little to no strength at all. He looked at Kaito with confusion. "What's wrong with me?"

"You released a lot of your energies in that explosion, Mr. Petrelli." Kaito paused for a moment, choosing his words. "For lack of a better description, you're tired."

"Tired?!" Peter was still confused. He doesn't get _tired_.

"I know you feel your regeneration abilities should keep you from becoming fatigued, but you must also remember," the slender man said, "You blew up with the force of a small nuclear weapon. And that must be a bit… tiring."

"But what about Sylar? Who will find and stop him from killing others?" Peter was worried. He thought about Claire. He wondered what would happen if Peter was not around to protect her.

"I know you are worrying for your niece. Keep those feeling at bay." Nakamura commanded, "I can guarantee she is quite safe where she is for now."

"I don't understand." Peter said flatly, "You still haven't told me how I got here. The last thing I remember is my brother flying me into the sky."

"You exploded. Thankfully, your type of nuclear release is not the same as an actual warhead. You released only energy as opposed to energy and force. From the air it was quite safe. If you were on the ground, you would have destroyed everything within a seventy mile radius." Kaito words hung in the air.

Peter couldn't believe that is truly was he who would have ruined the future. His incapacity to control his ability would have cost the lives of millions.

"I'm not safe. I could blow at any time." Peter said rather urgently.

"I assure you, you are not going to blow anytime soon." Kaito returned to his calming voice. "That is why we took the opportunity to bring you here. We are, well I should say, I am going to teach you self-control. You need to be able to keep those abilities in check. Hopefully, with a little focus and training, you will." Kaito Nakamura headed to the door.

"Wait!" Peter exclaimed, "Where are you going?"

"To eat. I'm slightly famished." Kaito said simply, "You need your rest. When you feel physically up to it, your training will begin." And with that, he was gone.

Peter sat back in the bed. This was going to be tough.

* * *

_Sylar_  
_3 Months Ago_

Sylar awoke to find he was no longer with that vile woman. Angela Petrelli has unceremoniously stabbed him in the neck with a particularly long needle. He knew he screamed when it happened, but he didn't care. He was in the dark and the smells and sounds were completely different. He knew he was lying on a bed, but this time the bed was small, maybe twin sized, with rough sheets and comforter. He tried to move but he could still feel the burning in his chest from the would that was inflicted on him. 'W_here am I now_' he thought to himself. To him, this was just getting ridiculous. He was sick of being shot, sick of being stabbed, and he was _definitely _sick of waking up in foreign places without any recollection of how he got there. That was when he realized that this place might not be so foreign. The sounds were so familiar. He tried to reach out with the enhanced hearing he had picked up from that mechanic in Montana, but he found that he couldn't. He wondered if maybe the needle was mainly to stifle his abilities and that maybe blackouts were just a lucky side effect.

Sylar was just about to try to move when he heard a slight ruffling coming from in front of him. Someone was in the room.

"Who's there?" he asked with no emotion in his voice. He listened hard with his average hearing. He could barely make out the sound of breath coming from the direction of his feet. "I said, who is there?"

"A friend." It was a dark voice. So dark, it sent a chill down Sylar's spine. "And I have brought you here to tell you to stop."

'_Who the hell is this guy'_ Sylar thought. He felt the danger in the room and he knew he was helpless. Sylar sat up, squinting his eyes towards the darkness to try and catch a glimpse of his captors face.

"Stop what?" he asked.

"Your little quest for power. It's fruitless." Now the man's voice was beginning to tick Sylar off. He was speaking down to him. As if he were not the great and powerful Sylar, but just a small child who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Don't talk down to me. Do you even know who I am?" Sylar said with as much intimidation as he could. If this guy was dangerous, Sylar wanted to know just how dangerous.

"You're a child who clearly cannot be left unattended for too long." The man scoffed. He clearly was not threatened by the serial killer's voice. "You are irresponsible. You've apparently learned nothing. You've grown onto something to be despised."

"What the hell do you know about me?" Sylar was getting angry. "I could break your neck with a single thought. Let me see your face. Step out of the shadow."

The man laughed. A cold, hollow laughter that rattled Sylar to the bones.

"I know plenty about you, _Gabriel._" He said, using Sylar's real name, which made Sylar even angrier. "And I think I'll keep myself a secret for now. You're not ready to know everything yet."

"Alright. I've had enough of this crap." Sylar stood up next to the bed and began walking towards the voice in the dark. "You tell me who you are and where I am, or I will slice your head open and eat your brain."

The man began laughing again, "Please, Gabriel, you don't _eat _brains."

"I can make an exception." Sylar responded darkly. This sent the man into a hearty laugh that sounded slightly familiar to Sylar, but he couldn't place it.

"Well, you certainly have gained some confidence." The darkness chuckled. The laughter gave Sylar a bit of pause. It made him feel… warm. He couldn't understand why. The voice was so dark and emotionless, but his laughter was like a soft throw blanket that you snuggled into after a day in the snow.

"Who… who are you?" this time, Sylar asked with genuine conviction and curiosity. He wanted to know who the man with the soothing laughter was.

"Like I said… a friend." The man's voice was now warm as well. Sylar knew it was familiar. He had definitely heard it before, but his eidetic memory was failing him just like his other abilities. Plus, the massive amount of drugs, that that Petrelli woman most likely pumped him full of, was probably not helping either.

"Go back to your old life, Gabriel." The voice said calmly. "This is going to be much bigger than you." Before Sylar could ask what, the man continued, "There is a great evil out there. Much greater than you. Much greater than all of us. Just go back to being who you were and wait for your calling."

"Why should I?" Sylar asked, "I am all powerful. I can do whatever I please."

"Because I know you, Gabriel. You never wanted to kill. It's not who you are. You just got a little…" the man paused, as if choosing his words very carefully, "…lost."

"I'm not lost." Sylar retorted. "I'm more found than ever. I can be anything… I could even be president." The words rolled off Sylar's tongue before he could stop them.

"Did your mother tell you that?" the voice in the shadows asked.

"What do you know about my mother?!" Sylar was quick to get angry. He hated this subject.

"I know you murdered her." Said the voice.

"It was an accident!" Now Sylar was very angry. _'How dare he accuse me of killing her?'_ he thought.

"Was it now? Or did her disappointment in you blind you with rage?" these words sat in the air. Sylar couldn't respond. Whoever this man was, he knew where the nail was and how to hit it.

"She loved me…" He said, his voice sounding slightly sad. "She just didn't understand, I would have stopped… it's not my fault she came at me…" his voice trailed off in the memory. His mother's face as she told him he was dammed and to get out of her house. The look she gave him when he tried to explain.

The fear when she raised the scissors.

The pain when they slid into her chest.

The awe when she looked up from the wound to meet his eyes.

"I just wanted her to tell me… it was enough…"

A lonely tear slid down his cheek and the man spoke again, "You see, Gabriel. Abandon your quest. Stay here. I know you don't want this anymore." The voice was so relaxing to Sylar. It reminded him of…

'_Wait… no… that can't be right.' _Sylar pushed that hope out of his head.

"Being a watchmaker _is _enough, Gabriel. Go back to it." The voice began fading.

"Wait, you still haven't told me who you are." Sylar shouted into the darkness.

"I told you… I'm a friend." Said the now very soft voice. "You'll find I have made sure that everything is in it's place." Softer still. "You'll here from me again, Gabriel. Good-bye."

Sylar just stood, mouth gaping, staring into the darkness. He was confused and angry. He fumbled around the side of the bed and found a light jutting out of the wall. He reached in and gave the knob a slight turn causing the room to fill with a pallid yellow light.

He found himself standing in his old bedroom in his old apartment. No, not his.

Gabriel's apartment. This was going to be tough.


	9. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**_  
_

_Audrey Hanson, Matt Parkman, Mohinder Suresh, and Sylar  
__Queens, NY_

They all froze, staring at one another, the resonance of the gunfire still echoing in their ears. Nobody knew what to do, or what to say.

Finally, "Gabriel Gray" broke the silence.

"How did you know, Mohinder?" he said cocking his head slightly to one side. Mohinder Suresh thought the man resembled a confused puppy. "I can't figure that out. I skirted around the mind reader, but… How did _you_ know?"

Sylar's eyes were searching Mohinder's as if trying to read his mind. Parkman was imitating, searching the Indian's thoughts for a hint to his discovery.

Mohinder couldn't speak and his mind was silent. Fear has seized his throat like a vice and muffled his thoughts like a pillow to the face. He was standing in front of the man that could turn an entire city into a nuclear wasteland with a snap of his fingers; a man who unremittingly executed his father; a man who murdered, God knows how many, people without any remorse. The last thing he wanted to do was speak. He knew that if he opened his mouth, he would probably throw up.

"I said, how did you know, doctor?" the tall man's voice was frightening compared to the visage it came out of. "How is it that I could fool a telepath and an F.B.I. Special Agent, but I couldn't fool the one person with no training and no ability?" Sylar's eyes flickered as his intuitive aptitude went to work. He was desperately trying to understand how it was that a lowly, common, useless "normal" had figured him out. It fascinated him, really. He was all-powerful, and yet he couldn't fool a simple geneticist…

"_How did you know?"_ Parkman heard the thoughts of the killer reel.

Mohinder just stared at the dark figure to his front. He couldn't understand how a man in black-rimmed glasses and a pullover, who moments before was quivering at Parkman's feet, could suddenly become so terrifying. Mohinder decided that the clenching and nauseating feeling in his throat has relinquished itself enough to speak.

"Y-y-you're voice." He said as composed as he could muster. Unfortunately his "composed" voice came out as a stuttering whisper. "I h-h-heard sarcasm… you don't l-l-look like one who fancies s-s-sarcasm."

Sylar smiled and rolled his eyes.

"I see," he said, removing his glasses and tossing them aside, "I guess I gave pathetic little Gabriel too much credit."

"No. N-n-not just that… I saw…" Mohinder paused.

"You saw…?" Sylar asked with his dark eyebrows raised.

"Zane…"

The smile that spread across Sylar's face matched the glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

"Aw. That's sweet." He said, his voice drenched with sarcasm. "You liked those times we spent together, didn't you?" Mohinder couldn't look at him; the nauseous feeling has returned. "You liked having a buddy to travel with you? We were pals back then, weren't we? Good times."

His voice grew deeper as he began to step towards the geneticist, his words becoming ever more snide. "Or maybe you saw more than just a buddy, aye Dr. Suresh?" he was standing inches from Mohinder. He used his telekinesis to lift Mohinder's face to look him in the eye and the doctor could feel the bile rising from his stomach. The words dripped from Sylar's mouth like venom as he leaned in so close that their noses were almost touching, "Developing a little _crush_ on me, were you?"

Without warning, Matt Parkman held up his gun and fired, desperate for the killer to stop his taunting of Mohinder. He kept pulling the trigger until there were no more bullets left. All that remained was the frantic clicking from the hammer hitting empty the chambers of the firearm. The bullets never reached their target. Matt knew that they wouldn't, but he had to do something to pry the monster away from Suresh. The small pieces of metal just hovered a few inches from their intended destination. Parkman's actions earned a small but devilish smile from the tall man. _"I can't believe this was the guy who pummeled me with a kitchen utensil…"_ Parkman thought, as his watched the bullets stop their journey midair.

"I would have thought you would have learned from our last experience, _Parkman_, that your glorified pea-shooter does no good here."

"Hey, a distraction is a distraction." Parkman shrugged as Mohinder shoved Sylar away from him to stand next to Agent Hanson.

"Yeah, she'll save you." Sylar said, mocking the doctor's choice of defender. His voice was so cold and dark, it send chills down Audrey Hanson's spine as she stepped in front of Mohinder.

Audrey had only met Sylar once. He had called in the location of Ted Sprague. He had also given her a name: _Isaac Mendez._ It was like he wanted to rub it in her face.

The F.B.I. had found Mendez's body two days later. She worked for hours with a sketch artist trying to replicate his image, but he only stood in front of her briefly. She had only looked into his eyes briefly. That's all she could remember… his eyes.

Now, staring once again into that bright, yet menacing, auburn gaze, her hatred for Sylar was pulsing through her veins like a poison.

She screamed and lunged forward knocking the object of her loathing back against the wall. "Did you laugh at me!? Did you!? You knew I would find Mendez!" With each sentence she punched him; her blood was boiling. He grabbed her arms and started laughing heartily. Audrey struggled against his grip, remembering all of the scenes of death she was called to; the horrible sights that he was responsible for. "You monster! You killed all those people! You're nothing but a monster!" Sylar laughed even harder as he shoved Agent Hanson away, roughly sending her to the floor.

"You think that hitting me will accomplish anything?" He asked in between chuckles. He looked at Parkman. "Did you tell her _anything_ about me?" Sylar bent down to look at Audrey who had an expression of hatred plastered on her face. "You know that Parkman can read minds, right?" he asked. She glared at him, anger burning in her eyes. "You should also know that I have a few tricks up my sleeve too."

He raised his hand and sent Audrey sailing across the room. She smashed into one of the many bookcases and fell to the floor. Books came cascading off the shelf, burying her beneath them.

"It must have really ticked you off, knowing that I was standing right in front of you that whole time." He said as he strode towards the bookcase and the crumpled woman beneath it, "When did it hit you? When you found Mendez? You must have felt ridiculous when they said his name." He picked Audrey up telekinetically as he spoke, invisible hands lifting her to her feet. "I'm sure the look on your face was priceless." He wrapped his hand around her neck and leaned to whisper in her ear. "I wish I could've seen it."

Mohinder, knowing that Audrey's gun would do no good, threw the useless hunk of metal at the serial killer, hitting him in the shoulder. Sylar turned, dropping Agent Hanson on the pile of books, and before Suresh knew what had happened, he was pinned, familiarly, to the ceiling and unable to completely breath.

"Now, now, Mohinder… none of that." He said calmly. Keeping Suresh pinned, he toppled more books on Audrey, who was struggling to get up. "This time there is no whiny little Petrelli to save you." He growled while looking up at Mohinder. "You're going to be last. I'll get that list out of you even if I have to split you in half to do so."

Matt was desperately trying to help Audrey out from under all the books. He had just gotten her standing when Sylar flicked his wrist and Parkman was tacked against the far wall like one of the pushpins of Mohinder's map. Sylar then picked up and flung Audrey into the bookcase once more for good measure. He wanted to ensure she would remain there, unable to interfere.

With his hand raised to mimic the invisible one holding Parkman against the wall, Sylar slowly began stalking towards him.

"But you, you're going to be first. Out of all the people here, _you_ are the one I'm most interested in." he said as his hand reached to grasp Parkman's throat. "_They_ are meaningless. Insignificant…" nodding his head to the other two victims of his malice. "But you… _you_ have something I want. A marvelous little gift you have... Hearing what others keep to themselves." Mohinder began screaming from his position on the ceiling and Audrey just watched in horror as Sylar raised his hand with his index finger extended.

"I can't wait to see how that works." Parkman's eyes widened in realization; Sylar was going to take his ability.

"I can't say this isn't going to hurt, so feel free to scream of you like…" Sylar leaned in so that Parkman could hear his thoughts. _"Most people do…"_


	10. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

_Peter Petrelli, Noah and Claire Bennet  
Odessa, TX_

Following a tear filled reunion and the explanation of what had happened to him after the incident in New York, Peter Petrelli, Claire Bennet, and her father Noah followed Mr. Nakamura to the cafeteria in the main building of Primatech Paper.

After some more stories and some sandwiches, Claire and Noah were up to speed on where Peter had been. He had been training with Mr. Nakamura for the past three months. He still didn't have complete control over his abilities, but he was fully able to keep them in check. Specifically the ability he absorbed from Ted Sprague, which was the biggest fear of everyone.

"I've practiced a lot." Peter said, stuffing the last bit of tuna in his mouth. "Kaito has shown me how to focus. How to control."

"Do not give me all the credit." Kaito Nakamura said. He was standing in the doorway behind Peter. "You worked very hard to achieve the level of control you have."

"Yeah, but I couldn't do it without you." Peter smiled.

"Why didn't you call?" asked Claire. "I was so worried. I thought that you were…"

"Dead?" Peter interrupted her. "Yeah, I know. But Kaito said that I needed to focus all of my thoughts on the here and now. Until I learned how to control my own problems, it would have been a bad idea to bring you into the mix. I could have hurt you." Peter reached over and took Claire's hands in his own. "And that's the last thing I want to do."

Claire smiled as she tightened her grip. "I know."

Noah sat at the opposite end of large square table. He was amazed over how hard Peter had trained. He was proud of the boy. He had begun to think of Peter like family. After all, he was Claire's uncle. That brought him to thoughts about Nathan, Peter's brother. _I wonder if he had heard anything about Nathan?_ Noah thought to himself.

"No." said Peter solemnly. He had heard Noah Bennet's thoughts thanks to his quality time with Matt Parkman. "Nathan is still missing. I wish there was a way to find him, but Kaito said that the _Walker Tracking System_ was destroyed three months ago."

Noah tensed up slightly when her heard the name 'Walker.' He knew the "tracking system" wasn't broken. "It" was fine. "It" was also in the form of a little girl who, now, was happily living out her youth in Nevada. He then shot a glance towards Mr. Nakamura. Apparently, Peter was never told that the "tracking system" was not a system at all, but Molly Walker, another special just like him.

"The tracking system is fully operational." Noah said flatly. "But I'll have you know, it is not a machine."

Peter looked quizzically at Noah. He cocked his head to the side and asked, "What do you mean, 'it's not a machine?'"

"The Walker Tracking System is a little girl." The older man began. "She was there, in New York, the night you exploded. Her name is Molly Walker. She currently living in Nevada with a woman named Niki Sanders."

"The chick that nailed Sylar with the parking meter." Claire added. Peter nodded, remembering the woman who had helped him that night.

"So, is that her ability? Tracking specials?" Peter asked, casting a sidelong glance at Kaito Nakamura. He wondered if Nakamura knew about Molly Walker. By the look on his face, Peter guessed he didn't.

"Yes." Noah replied simply.

"I had no idea that the new system was a child." Nakamura said while stepping forward. "Linderman just said that it was more reliable than the old system."

"Well, that doesn't matter now. Both systems are down and all of the people who have been marked are safe." Said Bennet, taking his daughters hand and smiling. "And that's the way it should be."

* * *

_Niki Sanders, Micah Sanders, and Molly Walker  
Las Vegas, NV_

Niki Sanders stood over the frying pan in her kitchen. She was making grilled cheese for her, her son Micah, and the newest addition to the household, Molly Walker. She smiled as she thought of how happy it had been to have her living with them. Molly was a smart girl and Micah seemed to have taken a real liking to her. They would spend hours playing video games and watching TV together. D.L., Niki's husband, once said that he thought Micah and Molly were an adorable couple. She knew he was just joking, but it was a cute thought. Niki figured that she was watching her son develop his first crush.

The kids were outside playing and D.L. was working his new job as a construction worker for Nevada State Highway. The last few months were rough on the couple. Niki didn't have many skills aside from her internet capabilities and D.L. was an ex-con, so it was difficult for either of them to find a good job. When they returned from New York, they were lucky enough to live off the money that Jessica had earned them from doing jobs for Linderman, but that was running out fast. Fortunately, a contractor agreed to hire D.L. to work the night shift. He did boring roadwork for the state, but at least it was good paying job that provided for his family.

They had little worries in the world now. Linderman was dead, Molly was safe, and D.L. had a decent job so their finances weren't too tight. Everything was perfect. That was, until Niki received a call from Mohinder Suresh.

_"Sylar may be alive." Mohinder's shakily uttered._

_"What?" Niki asked, panicking and wondering where the children were._

_"I saw him in a watch shop… he seemed, different." He told her._

_"Are you sure it was him?" she asked._

_"I'm sure."_

That call was made this morning. Niki knew that if it were anything, those in New York would take care of it. And if something happened, she would get fair warning. She was very glad that her and her family were a whole country away from Sylar.

Niki smiled again, pushing the thoughts of the killer out of her mind as she flipped the last of the sandwiches onto the final plate. She placed it on the table and walked over to the back door.

"C'mon guys! Grilled cheese is up!" Niki yelled into the back yard. Micah and Molly were kneeling on the ground looking at something. The kids looked up from what they were doing, smiled at each other and ran in the house.

"So, what were you doing out there, huh?" Niki asked.

"We were watching this really weird bug." Said Micah with a mouth full of cheese. "It was really gross."

"And cool." Smiled Molly. She may have been a girl, but she liked bugs.

"Well, just don't bring any in the house. I can't stand bugs." Niki said with a chuckle. They all continued to eat, while laughing over a story Molly told about Mohinder Suresh and a spider. Apparently, Mohinder is not a big fan of spiders.

"Yeah, and when he saw it, he started screaming like a girl." Molly giggled.

When the finished up, Niki stood and took their plates, leaving their glasses so that they could finish their sodas. She went to the kitchen sink to wash them off.

"I can only imagine." She smirked as she began washing off the plates. She looked out the window over the sink into the yard. She usually did this when she was washing dishes. She would watch the trees rustle or the children next door play kickball, but this time there were no children, and the bushes were the ones rustling. Niki squinted as she tried to make out the movement in the bushes.

"Oh my God…" she breathed.

There was someone out there.

* * *

_Mohinder Suresh, Matt Parkman, Audrey Hanson, and Sylar  
Queens, NY_

_"Most people do."_

Matt Parkman couldn't breathe. He didn't want to look but he couldn't look away. He heard a faint buzzing noise as Sylar raised a finger to his forehead. He felt the sting of the incision… and began to scream. Blood trickled down his face. He could faintly hear Audrey yelling.

Audrey Hanson couldn't believe what she was watching. She could barely move, mainly because Sylar had broken her leg by throwing her into the bookcase so many times. She was terrified.

Mohinder Suresh, telekinetically pinned to the ceiling, started screaming, "NO!" at the top of his lungs. It was all he could do. He had no ability. He couldn't do anything but watch and scream.

Sylar was moving slowly. He wanted Suresh and the special agent to watch in agony as he did his work. He wanted them to see exactly what they did. Suddenly, he stopped, cocked his head to the side, and yelled, "Everyone be QUIET!"

There was silence.

Sylar dropped Parkman to the floor and stepped away from him. Mohinder fell from the ceiling as all telekinetic restraints on him were removed. There was still absolute silence.

_"What the hell is he doing?"_ Mohinder thought. He crawled over to Matt who was no worse for the wear, aside from a one-inch slice in his forehead that was bleeding profusely. _"Head wounds always bleed too much."_ thought Suresh as he ripped his button-down to used a bandage for the cut.

"Yeah, but at least my brains aren't falling out." Matt choked.

"SHUT UP!" Sylar yelled again. "We're not alone."

Sylar reached out with his hearing. He felt so fortunate for his quality time with Mohinder. If he hadn't traveled with the geneticist, he never would have met that grungy mechanic and he never would have gained such a wonderful ability. Sylar paused and listened carefully.

_"Unit seven, target sighted."_

_"Unit two, don't move until unit four has a clear shot."_

_"What's he doing? Why did he stop moving?"_

_"Oh shi-… he knows… MOVE, MOVE, MOVE! ALL UNITS!"_

Before anyone could react, even Sylar who somewhat knew it was coming, a full-blown military melee ensued.

Men in full S.W.A.T. gear crashed through the window and kicked down the door. They were fully armed and definitely dangerous. The first through the window went right for Sylar, who smirked, flicked his wrist and sent the man back out the way he came, plummeting two stories to his screaming death.

The four men that came crashing through the door spread out, one covering Mohinder, the other covered Audrey. "Who the hell are you guys?!" she yelled, but got no answer. The third made a move to hold Matt, but Parkman punched him in the face, the only part not protected by S.W.A.T. gear, breaking the man's nose. He scrambled to his feet to find the gun that Mohinder had throw at Sylar only moments before.

The fourth fired two shots at Sylar who immediately stopped the bullets mid air. Sylar quickly noticed that the projectiles weren't bullets at all, but darts. They were firing tranquilizer darts.

Parkman located the gun and turned to begin firing when one of the window's units shunted him in the back of the head with the butt of his gun, sending him face first onto the floor.

Sylar turned to see the team members holding Audrey and Mohinder. Once again, he flicked his wrists and the men geared in black went crashing against their prospective walls. Audrey flailed away from her position in the pile of books and crawled over to Mohinder.

"What the bloody hell is going on?!" Shouted the geneticist. "Are they with us?!"

"I don't think so!" Audrey yelled back. The man that was covering Mohinder stood up after the attack by Sylar and grabbed Audrey and threw her backwards. He turned his gun on her and fired once. The dart hit her directly in the chest and before she knew it, she was unconscious.

Mohinder jumped on the SWAT man's back wrapping arms around his neck. The man ran backwards into the wall, successfully knocking Suresh to the floor.

Sylar kneeled and touched the floor, turning it to ice. The SWAT team slipped and danced around the ice, but did not fall.

_Damn…_ thought Sylar as he telekinetically tossed another guy out the window. Finally, taking out one of the darts from his gun, one of the geared men lunged at Sylar's back, lodging the tranquilizer firmly in his neck. Another did the same to Mohinder and both men crashed to the floor.

Mohinder, semi-conscience, watched as the crew calmed down to look at the scene. Matt was lying face down by the pile of books, Audrey was slumped against the wall by the door, and Sylar was lying on his back. Mohinder could feel consciousness slipping away from him.

"Which one's are Parkman and Gray?" said one guy.

"Well, I'm guessin' it ain't the girl." Cracked the other.

"I think the Indian is the doc." Said a third.

"Alright, then we take these two. Wait, the Indian's still awake." Said the one farthest away. He walked over and shot Mohinder again. "Nighty-night, doctor."

That was the last thing Mohinder Suresh heard before everything went black.


End file.
